Reflections of a Father
by TheIncredibleDancingBetty
Summary: Splinter has his hands full raising four young boys, especially when they cannot seem to function without him there. But when something happens to him, will they pull through? Splinter POV, Leo heavy. Turtles are 8. Anon reviews welcome.
1. Falling

I don't own the TMNT

A/N: This is an idea that has been ruminating for a few months. I am using literary license with where the manhole cover is, I know that there's one in the park, I'm just not sure where and what type. A bit wordy, but I always thought of Splinter as a deep thinking, meditative sort. Hope you like it!

Turtle age: 8ish

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Leonardo looked at me with wide eyes, twiddling his fingers in front of him, sitting before his nearly finished bowl of cereal. "How long will you be gone, Master Splinter?"

For a second I froze, stopping to take a deep, meditative breath. This was the twenty-second time he had asked me in the last hour. Turning, I looked down at his pensive, anxious face. In a way I understood his worry. Where I was going, there was great risk. But the annual state fair was always an excellent place to obtain a lot of non-perishable food. Nothing that they served there was fresh, and the very atmosphere made people not pay attention. On top of that, there was always a poorly manned canned food drive. Prime opportunity to build up some of our stocks. I went every year, each time coming home with a lot of food. Indeed, we were still finishing off some of it now.

Yet, so many people, it was fraught with risk. Last year, in fact, I was spotted and shot at by a half-drunk security guard. When Leonardo saw the bullet hole in my cloak he would not leave my side for a week.

But with such a great potential reward, how could I pass it up?

Placing a clawed hand on his head, I rubbed it in a reassuring manner. "Please try not to worry, my son. I have been doing this every year. I-"

"But you said that it has been growing, it's supposed to be twice as big this time!" He gripped my hand, rubbing his cheek on it, giving me his most sorrowful look.

The little sneak. Those big puppy dog eyes…he had perfected the look in the last year. For an instant, looking at him, my heart twisted. Perhaps I did not need to go…

Donatello looked up from his book, a college level Biology that I had, ah, 'tactfully acquired.' "Leo, rationally this run needs to be done. It is our biggest source of non-perishable starches, proteins and especially fruits. Without it, we might get deficient in our vitamins." He looked at the book with fresh interest, pointing to a part of the text. "For example, did you know what could happen if we didn't get our vitamin C? Or vitamin D, seeing as how we don't get it from sunlight. And vitamin A, oh, what a doozey. It is an especially serious problem for turtles in particular. I mean, the biological and anatomical implications alone are-"

A glob of soggy cereal hit him between the eyes.

"ECH!" he wailed, automatically wiping the glob from his face. It fell and smacked into the book. Immediately he leapt to his feet with a squeal, frantically wiping off the book. "RAPH! What do you think you're doing! These books aren't easy to come by! I mean, come on!"

While Raphael smirked, Michelangelo giggled, laughing so hard his elbow accidently slipped and knocked over the bowl of oatmeal, sending it flying. It landed, top down, right on my lap. I grimaced as the warm lumpy liquid immediately covered my thighs.

"SORRY!" He leapt to his feet so fast that somehow he entangled his ankles in the legs of the chair, and toppled over, chair on top of him. Immediately Leonardo hopped to his feet. Looking from me to his brother, indecision warring within him, I finally waved him off and he dashed over to his youngest, helping him to his feet and wiping away the tiny tears he was trying to hide.

In the meantime, Donatello was now glaring at Raphael. "You can't do stuff like that! This is an expensive book! You've irrecovically damaged it! Why would you do something like that?"

Raphael snorted and grinned. "Anything to not die of boredom listening to you jabber on like you're smarter than everyone. Damned annoying."

My eyebrows snapped together. "RAPHAEL!"

He started, realizing his mistake and scrambled from his seat. The tip of my tail still caught his thigh, causing him to jump with a yip, clutching the injured part. "Where did you learn such language? No, it does not matter. You will never do this again! And Donatello is right. Not only is throwing food rude, but books of that sort are extremely difficult to come by. Thirty flips followed by fifty push-ups. NOW!"

With a slight grumble he went over to the dojo area and started doing his punishment without further protest. He was used to such things by now. I sighed and massaged the area between my eyes. The fair, despite the risks, was looking more and more appealing by the second. I had not left the Lair for a week, and it was beginning to wear on me. That did not make me a bad Father, did it? Wanting a break from my own children? It seemed like it would be.

Sighing, I stripped off my robe. Luckily it had caught most of the oatmeal, though my fur was soaked with the sugary liquid that it was composed of. Already it was clumping together in a sticky mess that pulled at the skin underneath. Turning my back on the bedlam behind me, I went to the bathroom and with a towel wetted in the sink I quickly washed the fur on my thighs.

The sound of Donatello still protesting the stain on the book, coupled with the sounds of Raphael angrily stomping as he did his flips, with Michelangelo whining that he was still hungry, with Leonardo trying to tell everybody to quiet down…My head was pounding.

Yes. I was definetly going to the fair today.

Getting up, I prepared the military style rug sack. It was a fortunate find. It had straps that pressed against the back and shoulders in a way to make a heavier burden feel lighter. After getting it out, I set out the collapsible canvas wagon, placing my bow and arrow within it, and a large bundle of reusable plastic wrap. Then, finally, grabbed the heavy cloak that I used to cover my mutated body. The entire time, I heard the increasing noise in the main area.

Yes. I was definetly being a bad father. Even now, I could hear Donatello and Michelangelo quietly chiding Raphael as he did his punishment, which would likely result in an outburst of anger on his part, which would create even more bedlam. I should put a stop to it now, before it got out of hand. But, shamefully, I was simply tired of dealing with it. It would be easier after I returned. Going to the fair was always an all-day affair. The break would be good, I could deal with whatever mess they made when I got home.

Or just ignore it…

Ugh. When did I start to think such thoughts? I loved my sons, I did, I just desired a break.

Turning around, I nearly tripped over my eldest son, who was hovering behind me. In my inner thoughts I did not even notice. Gritting my teeth, I looked down at him. "Leonardo, I am losing my patience. I need to go."

He wilted under even this tiny chastisement. For an instant I felt a stab of regret as I always did when I had to correct him, but it needed to be done. Bowing his head, his shoulders shook with pent up emotion. His voice trembled slightly, for he knew that I wanted to hear no more on the matter. "But Master, I have a bad feeling about this time. You always said to trust your instincts, right? At least let me come with you! To help! I can help, I can!"

My tail thumped the floor. "_Enough!_"

He winced. I looked away, not willing to look at the reaction. Shame on you, Splinter. "You will not use my own lessons against me! I am going and that is final! You will NOT accompany me. The risk is too great and you are still a child. I will hear NO MORE on the matter. Is that understood?"

Biting his lip to keep it from trembling, he nodded. "Hai, Sensei." He said, his voice barely above a whisper. I tried to bite back the regret that I felt. I was simply enforcing discipline. As I always did. No need to feel this way, truly.

At that moment Michelangelo squealed loudly, followed by a thump and a crash. With a sigh of frustration, I quickly scanned the room. "MY SONS!"

Raphael, who was almost at his breaking point with the teasing, in fact I believe that he just threw something at his brother, who was giggling manically, looked up as well as the rest of them. I looked at them each in the eyes, putting on my best stern expression. "You will behave while I am gone, is that understood?"

"Yes Master Splinter." They chorused.

"You will _not _leave the Lair. You will _not _get into any squabbles. You _will _eat a normal meal, no snacks for lunch and dinner. You _will _go to bed at your designated time. I will not be in the mood to deal with disobedience when I arrive. If I find that you have disobeyed me, the punishment will _not_ be pleasant, I assure you." I straightened as I spoke, trying to look serious and threatening.

Their eyes rounded just a bit. "Yes Master Splinter."

Something would happen while I was gone. I was sure of it. Something would break, there would be a fight, something would be spilled, a tremendous mess would be made…it would be something. It was always something. I was truly growing tired of it. It was me against them in so many ways.

As I slowly turned and left the Lair, walking through the sewers with the wagon trailing behind me, I reminisced on the years of the past, when they were younger. During that time, they trusted me implicitly. When I said that something was not to be done, they had largely obeyed. Now, however, the older they got, the more rebellious they seemed to become, the more they questioned me. I knew for a fact, for example, that they snuck out of the Lair while I was gone. I could smell it whenever I returned. They never went far, though. At least they had enough common sense to do that. Still, though, I was losing absolute control over them. These excursions to the surface for supplies was necessary, thus they were left to their own devices for so long.

What would I do when they became even older? When they were teenagers?

I shuddered at the thought. Teenagers were irrational idiots, the lot of them. With four on my hand…surely dealing with them alone, I will be doomed.

Shaking my head, I tried to banish such thoughts. They would do me no good. Indeed, I would simply have to deal with things as they came, just as I had been doing this whole time.

So I busied my thoughts with the task to come. The fair was always set out in a similar fashion every year. I knew where all the booths were. There were a few that was never careful about their meat, and fresh meat, though cheap in quality, would be a welcome change to our usual preserved fare.

Going at a fast, loping jog, I went through the sewers. It was a winding path. Close to the end of it was a large cysterne, at least a one hundred foot drop. Approaching it, the sound of rushing water filling the space, I looked down. Somehow it had always reminded me of a mix between a large toilet bowl, constantly flushing, and an indoor waterfall. At the bottom was a small platform that encircled the bottom, opening up into a hole in the center where all the water swirled into seeming nothingness.

Going across it was more dangerous part of the journey. A 3 foot pipe went across it, it was just large enough to support the width of the wagon. Going across it when it was full would be more difficult, but I had been doing it for years. Fortunately, the gushing water never reached the pipe so it was always dry. Stepping on the cool metal with my clawed feet, I stepped out enough the front wagon wheels touched it. Looking back, I carefully maneuvered it so that the wheels straddled it. There were protrusions on either side of the pipe that, if I was meticulous enough, the wheels would ride on it similar to that of a train. Once I was satisfied that the wheels were in their proper place, I carefully made my way across it. Though I had done this many times, it still made me uneasy and I did not take a full breath until I had reached the other side.

From there I reached the fair within an hour. It was held in Central Park, where there was a manhole cover near the restrooms and away from the main streets. It was also right at the back where the main food areas were set up less than a dozen yards away. Leaving the pack and wagon in the sewer, I slid out, leaving the cover open just enough so that I could easily come back into it.

Leonardo was right. The fair had indeed seemed to double in size. I had my own act down well. Shrouded in the cloak, hunched over, I was the very picture of an elderly homeless man. I needed the disguise. Going out in the daylight was always a greater risk, but the canned food drive only operated in the daylight hours, so it was a necessity. Normally I felt bad about stealing from such a source, but after the first few years of coming to the fair, I knew that the person running it was not a decent sort, so it made me feel better.

With seemingly pained, shuffling steps, I crept about the exterior of the fair, using the many trees and bushes as additional cover. Already the canned food drive had collected enough cans that they had to empty the box that they had set out, stacking the cans in the back to make room. The person manning the station was a bored teenage female, too obsessed with her phone to pay any attention to those around her. Idiot teenager. I smiled. This was going to be easier than normal.

Being careful, I selected the most nutritious cans one at a time, secreting my stash into the bushes. The fair, because of the size was busier than usual. My discrete comings and goings were hardly noticed amongst the distracted people, too concentrated on the rides and such to notice anything else.

So it went for the first few hours. After getting a reasonable amount of cans in the bushes, I would then take them to the sewer and stack them in the wagon, then start the whole process over again. Periodically, in between, I would get bags of non-perishables. This year, however, I could get even more meats and fresh fruits. Donatello had perfected a vacuum bagging system which tripled the shelf life of them. So, deeper within the trees, I tied a line to an arrow. When no one was looking, I secured what I needed, skewering it with the arrow and dragging it back before anyone noticed. It got them dirty, but they were washed off easily enough when I got back. This method was time consuming, for to me timing was everything and at times I would wait an hour until I felt that the time was right.

When I was a human, surely I was not so oblivious to my surroundings.

Using this method, I secured several large hanks of beef, each from a different station so as to avoid people noticing the absence. I also got three whole chickens, a large package of sausages, several bags of various buns, a bag of onions, a bag of potatoes and lucked out by getting a large bag of mixed fruit.

During this time, my thoughts once again drifted back to my sons. I tried to picture them doing this as well, going out to get food and supplies. With their constant squabbling and lack of focus. Even with their ninjitsu training, they had troubles in that arena. They needed a guiding point, and thus far I was their only source.

What would they do if I was not here?

I shuddered. That very question had been plaguing me this past year in particular. Perhaps that was part of the reason why I was desiring more time away from them, was getting increasingly frustrated with them. I was in denial. I did not want to look at them and think of that uncertain future. Yes, I was teaching them to defend themselves, but how would I teach them to survive?

I did not even want to think it. They were my children, and I did not want to see them put in that sort of situation, no matter how inevitable it may be.

When night began to fall my methods became more bold. It was louder. People were more distracted. All attention was paid to the bright lights of the various carnival-style rides and the people manning the stands were tiring from a hard day's work. The entire day seemed to reflect it, during the last hour it had even started to rain.

I too, however, was beginning to tire as well. The wagon in the sewer was now completely full, brimming even, wrapped in the plastic for protection, the mass held in place by old bungee cords. The ruck sack was completely full, making it heavier than it was most years with all the canned goods. By this time, the rain was much heavier and the places were packing in early because of it. It was time to go. With the rain already soaking my fur, making me shiver, I decided that it was time I go as well.

Sliding the ruck sack on my back, I slowly stood up. Even with the extra supporting straps, it was heavy enough to make me sway a minute while I acclimated to it and got my balance. I had collected more on this trip than normal. Grunting, I adjusted the pack as much as I could and started forward, trailing the heavily laden wagon behind me.

It was much slower going this time. Not only did I have to be more careful due to the increased load, but the rain, which by now was pouring down, had already started to flood the sewer system. It was not to the point that it covered the walkway, fortunately, but if it continued at this rate then it would within a few hours.

I needed to hurry.

My feet slipping on the wet, slimy pavement, freshly wetted by the splashing fluid between the walkways, I made my way as quickly as I could. It took me nearly an hour and a half before I reached the cisterne at the midway point.

I paused, looking at the roiling water below. With the fresh and sudden influx of water, it appeared more violent then I had ever seen it. Blinking, I looked across the pipe to the other side. It was less than one hundred yards. If I waited the flooding would only get worse.

Yet indecision warred within me and I wasted a precious few moments standing there, considering my options.

No, I had to get this food, these precious supplies to my sons.

So I set my foot on the pipe.

The water, gushing as it was, was flecking water onto the pipe. The slick metal surface was much more slippery. For the second time I hesitated. I had never had to cross the pipe when it was wet, especially fully loaded as I was. Then I took a deep breath to steady my nerves and went along slowly and carefully. I had to do this for my sons.

This was much more difficult than I had anticipated. My heart was thudding in my chest, especially when, off balance by the heavy ruck sack, I had to turn around to ensure that the wagon wheels set themselves properly on the protrusions. The sound of rushing water was defeaning and only added to my anxiety as, my stance as wide as I could make it, I grabbed both sides of the wagon and slowly maneuvered them in place. Once the wheels met the surface, I breathed a sigh of relief. The back wheels followed the front ones.

Not daring to turn around, I scooted my feet back, inch by inch. The wagon struggled along. The extra weight caused more friction. It did not want to roll as easily as before. Arching my back, lowering my stance, I pulled harder. One inch. Then another. Then another.

A quarter of the way through my foot almost slipped. Panic seizing me, I immediately flattened myself on the pipe to lower my center of gravity, gripping the pipe in a bear hug. The hundred foot drop seemed to lengthen before my eyes. Squeezing them shut, I took several, deep, meditative breaths. Once I calmed enough, I slowly, carefully got back up, my palms nearly slipping on the slick metal.

No. I could never allow my sons to do this. Never could I put them in such danger.

Going even slower, I made it halfway across the pipe. Already I had taken nearly an hour when normally crossing it only took fifteen minutes. In my ears, the roaring of water seemed to be louder than before. More violent, threatening even. This rain must be a bad one.

Continuing across, I felt my legs tremble. My muscles were tiring, unaccustomed to this type of activity. Indeed, rarely did I use the ruck sack because of how unwieldy it was.

Then, from my left, I heard a deep, menacing gurgle. A sudden rush of water spat out. It was not a lot, more like a large child's water gun, but when it struck me in the eyes, I lost focus, shifting to make up for it.

Then the ruck sack shifted…and continued.

My balance was off.

Tail whipping to the other side, I released the wagon handle and threw my hands out in an attempt to compensate, my heart thudding in my chest. In any other situation, this likely would have worked, but the ruck sack threw its massive weight more than I anticipated, and I found myself toppling backwards.

The instant of panic was cut short as I stopped in the air with a jerk, my entire body suspended above the watery vortex. Looking up, neck straining, I saw that a large bolt had caught the major strap of the sack. It had saved me after trying to kill me.

Moving my body, I tested it. It was held fast, but it was not moving in the slightest. If I wanted back up, I would have to unstrap myself from it and climb up it.

After taking a deep breath, I undid the strap around my waist and carefully, slowly, took my left arm out of the shoulder strap. Immediately without the balance of both straps my body swung unnervingly to the side. Holding my tail stiff for balance, I grasped the strap as I eased my other arm out of the other one, turning my body to face it as I did so. Gripping both straps in clawed hands, I took another breath before reaching up to start to pull myself back up.

I heard the familiar belching sound, this time deeper, more menacing. I hardly had time to turn around before the huge column of water struck my body with such force that my grip on the straps slipped. Panic seized me. Gasping, getting a mouthful of water, I scrabbled for purchase on anything.

That vortex. I could not fall into that vortex.

But the water shoved me hard, hard enough that I flew across the cisterne, going right into one of the permanent water falls. It struck me like a second blow, this time forcing my body straight down.

I could not be sucked into that watery abyss.

I struck the concrete walkway first, harder than the force of gravity. I could feel the bone right below my knee snap on the impact. Grunting, I tried to catch myself with my hands, but my arm twisted, slipping out from under me, making my head hit with such force that I saw stars, sending a painful wave of dizziness through me. Gasping, I grasped at the floor with my good arm as the water rushed down on me. I could feel my consciousness getting hazy, but the water was pulling me towards the vortex. My arm trembling, my claws scraped ineffectually along the surface, pushing me towards the edge. My body screamed at me that it was at its limit. But if I passed out in there, I would be dead.

And my sons would be alone.

A fresh surge of strength enveloped my inner being. With a roar, my claws somehow found purchase, and with one mighty heave I threw myself against the wall, out of the column of water.

Lying haphazardly on my back, I blinked at the hazy vision before me, at the pipe one hundred feet above my head, the wagon and ruck sack still there. As my mind started to fade, I struggled to move. My leg screamed at me, my arm throbbed, and my chest ached from where it took the force of the impact. And my head…

A trickle of blood clouded my vision. I tried to blink it away. I failed.

How long before my sons realized that there was something wrong? Would I ever make it to them?

It was their faces before me, in my mind, that I concentrated on even as my vision went black.

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A/N: So what do you think? Hope you enjoyed it! Please leave a review! :D

P.S. If your into romance and RL issues, I have another fic featuring Mike called My Camouflage is Orange.

P.P.S. We are hosting a horror fanfic competition! It is on stealthy stories, the link is on my profile. Contact me or NerdFighter if you have any questions.


	2. The Beginning

I don't own the TMNT

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"Splinter?"

My mind was hazy, full of cobwebs so thick that I could hardly see through them. What was going on? My head was a mass of dull pain. Where was I?

"We shouldn't be out here, Leo. Master Splinter says not to."

I became aware of the voices, barely audible over the tumultuous roaring of water, so loud that it was nearly deafening. Then why was it that I could hear those little voices?

"NO! Something's wrong. I know it, I-OH NO! There's the wagon! And the backpack! Where is he? Daddy? DADDY!"

A cluster of cries sounded above me, the high pitched sounds bouncing off the walls, seeming to pierce my ears even through the roar of the water. The sound of panic in them urged me to do something, instilled a sense of strong instinct in me. Opening my eyes I tried to move. My head felt like it weighed much more than it should and pounded with a deep, thudding pain. My entire body was sluggish. My arms trembled as I tried to right myself, then my lower torso shifted. A sharp pain, sliced through me from my leg, causing me to cry out and collapse, panting slightly, my brain a wave of intense dizziness. Now that I was aware of it, my leg screamed in pain, seeming to be intensely worse with the slightest movement. Digging my claws into the slimy concrete, I gritted my teeth.

"Father?"

Yes. That was right. The voices. Peeking my eye open, I saw several little green heads pop over from the top of the cysterne, right where the pipe met the opening. "My sons…" I said through gritted teeth.

Then I saw the most prominent head, Leonardo, his eyes wide. He stared at me for a moment and I stared back, my mind starting to piece things together through the fog. "Splinter! What happened? Are you hurt?"

The food. The fair. The pipe. The fall…

My eyes finally snapped open to reality. Gritting my teeth against the pain, I quickly shoved myself up. Might have been a mistake. The pain got so intense that for an instant I saw nothing but white, unaware of anything else. Then my vision cleared and I could do nothing but lean back, clutching my upper leg to steady it I looked up again, pausing to acclimate myself from the intense dizziness that I felt from my head injury. The pain was so intense that I was fighting the urge to vomit. Then the sight of them peering over the ledge, the same height that I just fell made my breath catch in my throat, signaling a deep, primal fear. "Leonardo! My sons! Go away! It is too dangerous for you here!" I looked up, eyes desperate. I could not allow them to risk themselves, especially for me.

"But Splinter, you look hurt-"

"Leave me now! This is an order! You WILL NOT risk yourselves for me!"

My sons just stared back for a moment. As I looked them in their eyes, tears starting to form in mine. If I was to die here, who would take care of them? Could they survive? Had I just killed us all with my stupid blunder? Had I just committed the ultimate failure as a father? If only they would listen to me. If they fell, if their little bodies broken at the bottom of the cisterne…I was not sure if I could go on. I might just let the waters take me.

Their heads disappeared from sight and I allowed myself to take a deep breath. With luck they had listened to me. They were headed to safety. Yet still the fear within me refused to be quelled. What would they do without me? Surely they would die or continue their lives in horrible conditions.

I had to get myself out of this situation. I had to get myself to my sons. I could not let them go through life alone or risk their death. Not if I could help it.

Yet each time I tried to move, the pain from my leg combined with the pain and intense dizziness in my head made me stop. After each attempt I laid there, panting, frustrated at my own weakness. I inspected the injury. It was a fracture of my shin, closer to my ankle. That must be one reason why the pain was so bad, the movement from my foot affected it greatly. At least it was a closed fracture, and didn't look very deformed, so it was likely a clean break. If only I had something to splint it with. But there was nothing around me, only concrete, water and slime. How would I even get up? It was already starting to swell. My head pounded, yet I felt tired and my vision was blurred at the edges. I must have hit my head harder than I had thought. How long had I been out?

Struggling, I tried to clear my head and take stock of the situation. It was difficult, my thoughts were sluggish and my body wracked with pain. Every instinct in my body seemed to want me to sleep, yet I knew that this had the potential for disaster. If I suffered a concussion, then I may never wake up. So I settled for trying to fight through the confusion in my head. I must get up. I must get to my sons. I must care for them.

How long has it been since I had seen my sons at the top of the cisterne? With the pain and the situation it likely seemed much longer than it was, but I was not sure. The time was filled with me struggling to tamp down the pain, failing again and again to get up. Each time I fell it was as if I had received a new blow, each of which seemed to take longer to recover from. If my head wasn't a solid mass of pain and dizziness then I may have succeeded but as it was, the two together seemed to be too much for me. Weak. You are failing your sons. They will die because of you, Hamato Yoshi.

Then I heard some squabbling above me. Looking up my pupils dilated at the sight. There was my sons, all balancing on the pipe, a line of rope tied between them. "WHAT do you think you are doing?" I snapped, then gritted my teeth to hide the moan of pain from my leg. I dug my claws into the ground, desperate to try to regain my feet once more. To get them to stop such a dangerous action. My elbows trembled at the motion, betraying my body, not wanting to go through the effort.

Leonardo would not meet my eyes. He looked so grim it hurt. "You need help, Master!"

Sure enough, my claws slipped in the grime and I landed hard on my side, my head hitting the surface. "DAD!" He called. For a moment, I could not move as my head struggled to collect itself once more. Panting, I rolled to my back, watching my disobedient sons as I caught my breath once more. Then, as I watched him tie a loop of cord around the pipe, speaking softly to his brothers who seemed to be listening to him in rapt attention, another feeling began to come over me.

Pride.

It was clear that my Leonardo had taken charge. Almost as if he was leader of the group. That grain of thought cemented within me, and I began to see it differently.

Maybe I could secure a stable future for them after all.

If I lived to see it, of course.

Leonardo tied the line around Donatello's waist. He looked anxious but resolved and serious. Slung over his shoulder was a small satchel. He helped Leonardo tie two more large loops, open to the air, along with a smaller one. Raphael frowned. Though he was obviously frightened, he needed to be doing something. I was familiar with the attitude. "Why is he going? I should be the one to help Splinter!"

Looking thoughtful for a second, Leonardo responded, looking at him delicately. "Don knows the most about the body and stuff. Plus, you're the strongest, Raph! We need you up here to lift them up. There's no way we could do it without you!"

Raphael blinked at the thinly veiled compliment then nodded and puffed his little chest out in apparent pride. "You're right. Good luck, Donnie." He said and patted the little turtles shoulder.

With the rope securely tied around him, Donatello used the smaller loop as a foothold, the two larger loops still open to the air. Working together, the three turtles lowered him down.

I watched him near me, such a flood of odd emotions swamping through me. At one point, I did not want him doing this. He was putting himself at unnecessary risk. The thought that he might get injured, or worse, was enough to make my heart go cold. Especially if he did it because of me. Yet at the same time, I could see something different in my sons that perhaps I had never seen before, likely because of my own blindness. I was so focused on caring for them that I had never truly considered what they could do. For themselves. By themselves. They were working together towards a task, to save me. If it worked, what were the implications? Had I so seriously misjudged them simply according to age?

His eyes wide with fright, Donatello nonetheless kept his face adorably solemn as he approached me. Once he touched down on the ground beside me, his eyes swept over my body. For an instant he froze, his breath hitching in his throat as the reality of the situation instilled real fear in him. Before I could offer any words of comfort I could hear Leonardo call from above. "Don't worry, Donnie! You've _got _this! We're all here for you! Together, we can do this!"

The words seemed to wash over him like warm water. Taking a deep breath, Donatello nodded to himself and approached me gently, as if he was afraid that I would shatter upon his touch. "Daddy? Master Splinter? What happened?" His eyes were already zeroing in on my leg but his furtive glance to my eyes looked for concurrence.

I looked at him for a moment before answering. "I fell. My leg is broken, and I had hit my head."

He nodded, then scooted forward. Gently touching my shoulder he had me bend over slightly as he looked at the back of my head. I complied, but mostly to comfort him. After all, though he was my most intellectual son, how much could he know about medicine and wounds? I know that he had been reading books, but books would only tell you so much.

Getting down on his little knees, he carefully looked at the back of my head, his fingers palpating the flesh gently. I winced, but quickly covered up the expression before he could see. "Looks like you probably suffered a concussion, there's a large hematoma developing, but it doesn't look like the skull is fractured or anything. You'll probably have a lot of pain and dizziness for a while, though." He breathed a sigh of relief even as my own breath hitched in surprise. What was a hematoma? Before I could ask, he was scooting to face me. "Can you look at me in the eyes please?"

Curious, I did as he said. In his little bag he pulled out a light. It was one of the cheap keychain lights that I had given him some time ago. Holding it up, he quickly flashed it in each eye. I was temporarily blinded as he did so, blinking at the motion. I remembered seeing people do this on television shows. Was he merely mimicking them? "What are you looking for?" I asked gently, not wanting him to see my doubt.

He sat back with a smile as he put the little light away. "I read it in the emergency care book you got me. The pupils should be of equal size, and dilate the right way with light, without bulging or anything. Yours is normal, which means that your brain isn't bleeding.

I blinked back my surprise. Yes, I had gotten him those books, but that he had understood so much, I had no idea.

Then he scooted over to my leg. Gently, he ran his fingertips over it, barely brushing my skin beneath my fur. I grimaced in pain at even this light contact, but allowed him to continue. First he inspected my upper shin, then the muscle below it, prodding lightly at the sides. I was almost at the point of snapping at him when he stopped. "Looks like a tibial fracture, though not a complete one. At least it's still supported by the fibula." Reaching into the small bag beside him he took out two metal gardening poles and some rope. Gently placing the poles on either side, he wound the rope around them, slowly tightening, his eyes on my face to make sure that the pain wasn't too great, until they were rigidly in place. While he was doing so the pain was intensifying, but as soon as he was done and tied it off, it slowly got reduced to a low throb. "There." He said, taking a deep, slightly shaky breath. I stared at him, suddenly aware of how scared he was the entire time.

"How do you know such things, my son?" I asked softly. "I know that you read the books, but…" I trailed off, unable to finish. It even seemed shameful to ask. Of course he would know things. He was my little genius. How could I have underestimated him so?

He got up, bringing the larger loops over to me, slinging the first one over my chest so that it held me underneath my armpits. Shrugging, looking down, face bright red with embarrassment and a little bit of shame he answered. "I dunno. Reading. And sometimes, I find hurt animals, see if I can fix them…" Immediately his eyes darted to mine, expecting punishment. After all, I allowed no animals in the Lair. It was an ironclad rule. We already had enough trouble feeding ourselves after all.

Yet punishment was the last thing on my mind. In fact, I was finding myself near tears at my small son's accomplishments. All done right under my nose. "That is very good, my son. Did you know that many doctors practice on animals? It is very professional." I smiled, struggling back the tears. All I wanted to do was to embrace him, but at the moment the most important thing was getting out of the situation.

His face lit up as, gently, he helped me arrange the second loop so that it was nestled against the tops of my thighs. "Really?" A grin split his face as he checked the knots one last time and rechecked his splint.

"Yes. You are truly shaping up to be a handy doctor, are you not Donatello? You already are our official electrician and so much more. Perhaps, after this is over, I could find some more medical materials for you."

He was now practically glowing. It was amazing to be basking in my son's light. "Yeah, that would be great! Now, ah, we're going to go up. I need you to hold onto the rope, make sure that you don't wriggle too much, okay?"

I smiled at him. "Yes, doctor."

At the words his face turned beet red and got split in half by his smile. I could not resist smiling back

I clearly had a lot to reflect on.

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A/N: In case you haven't noticed, I'm kinda placing this before the turtles had their defined 'roles.' I don't think that they would've had it right away, and seeing as how parents are VERY imperfect, it might've taken something big to get Splinter to see past the little babies that he took care of and see them as growing kids who can do more than he thought they could. Please leave a review and let me know what you think!

P.S. If your into romance and RL issues, I have another fic featuring Mike called My Camouflage is Orange.

P.P.S. We are hosting a horror fanfic competition! It is on stealthy stories, the link is on my profile. Contact me or NerdFighter if you have any questions.


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